The other day my agent jokingly asked me if the dogs had any inkling that they’re going to be famous. I told her that other than a recent request that we replace the tap water in their bowl with Voss, and the occasional run-in with a rogue Puperazzi, life with our three soon-to-be-public pooches has remained more or less unchanged. Which doesn’t really surprise me. The truth is that my dogs and, in fact all dogs—regardless of breed, size or intelligence—remain more or less oblivious as to the bigger picture. Which is one of the many reasons why I love my dogs.

Sure, they get excited for a well-earned treat or an impending walk or when I re-enter the house after going outside for 16 seconds to toss out the garbage. But, on the whole my dogs don’t get too stoked about anything. Which also means they don’t get angry or disappointed, too high or too low. They remain hopelessly, blissfully unaware. And I find that so appealing, even a bit comforting. Watching Baxter roll around in a pile of fresh deer poop as if it is the end all be all of his existence reminds me to look for simple pleasures – and to watch where I step in our backyard. It inspires me to pause and appreciate what I’m doing with my life, and those who are helping me do it. It helps prevent me from seeing problems as insurmountable and opportunities as unreachable. It makes me realize that the only thing that matters at this moment is this moment. And that the big picture—as it almost always does—will take care of itself.

Hey, I could be wrong! As the publication day for HOUNDED gets closer the dogs may very well start channeling their inner Jolie or Pitt. Their demands might become more frequent and outrageous. But I seriously doubt that will happen. Because if I can count on my dogs for anything, it’s to remain in the moment. And without fail to make a beeline for that damn deer poop.